Making myself sad for your amusement, you dicks

I may have done a silly thing.

Moreso than usual.

You see, I was wandering around my local supermarket, allegedly to help with the purchasing of a few essentials but in practice is was more being a bad influence. And then I see this on the shelves:

Luffy looks angry at me for finding a foodstuff that's not good.

And as the picture suggests, I immediately brought it.

That milkshake sounds like the worst culinary idea in the world. We all know the smell of Skittles, the powerful near-sickly sweetness with fruity overtones. As a crunchy chewy juicy sweet, they're quite frankly awesome. But combined with dairy? Eeeerrrrghhh. That's so wrong. All that citrus fruit with diary – how does it not instantly curdle? Just looking at it make my stomach churn. So naturally I was overcome by and unstoppable urge to buy and drink it.

I don't get it either. For starters, I'm not a masochist here. While I enjoy watching reviews of bad movies, I don't want to put myself through them. I did that once at university with a couple of film nut friends, and even to take the piss out of it, there is very little enjoyment to be had out of Uwe Boll's House of the Dead. It's just awful, boring, and unpleasant to sit through. No thanks.

Choke risk? Yes. I could imagine that.

With greater context, it makes even less sense. I have a permanent moderate level nausea... because nature said so. With medication that I'll take for the rest of my life it's low level to forgettable. A year or so back, before I was on my current set of drugs, had some of the lowest points of my life, with a battle to actually eat and keep food down that seemed to never end. Whilst I'm a hell of a lot better now, I still rarely eat to being full: that uncomfortable feeling you get when you slightly overeat is so similar to how I used to feel all the damn time that I can't bring myself to get anywhere near that. It always strikes me that no matter how many machetes and crossbows I stockpile, how many places I judge fit to live due to their ease of turning into a fort, the friends I pick due to my ability to outrun them.... that in a true zombie aplocalyspe, I won't be a survivor. Assuming I actually survive the initial wave of infection, I've got, what? Three weeks? Three weeks tops and my medication runs out and I'll be Green Face McGee, puking up over my own feet as I feebly attempt to ward off the oncoming horde by clutching my stomach and whimpering. So you'll understand I'm not Mr. Iron Stomach here: I don't want to go back. I brought it instantly to inflict upon myself knowing it wouldn't be good and I would suffer, and only later figured I'd share my misery with all of you because you'd quite likely find that hilarious. You assholes.

So what I'm basically saying, for what is about to occur, I deserve no sympathy for my stupidity. Not one fucking drop. So, from what comes, is totally my opinion, right? No lawsuits please, I'm broke. Okay. Let's do this.

Huh.

Oh what is with that colour? Is... that pink with a shade of grey? Oh Jesus why. Nah, that's probably just the lighting. God I hope it's the lighting. Well, I'm going into this in a negative place. Let's hope it doesn't skew the experience too much. Let's smell it!

What.

What is this?

Yeah, that's the unmistakable smell of a bunch of Skittles mashed up with milk. So it's got the smell right at least! Hahahahahaaaa whhhhhhhhhy. Time for a sip.

One sip.

One tiny sip.

Just fucking drink it, you wuss.

Here goes...

Okay. Hmm. Right. That's... something, alrighty. Not as awful as I was fearing. Not as Skittle tasting either. It's got the smell, not the taste though. Which... could be good? Or bad? Fuck knows.

It's basically strawberry milkshake... mostly, and then the aftertaste hits you. It's... sweet, I guess? A little chemical-y. Not particularly pleasant. Hmm. Oh sweet crap I've emptied the glass taking sip after sip just trying to find the words to describe this aftertaste. A wordsmith I am not. Urgh. Time to pour some more.

The picture's crap, but by this point I was feeling too shit to care.

It's not good. It's not a good aftertaste. It's very distracting. You're getting the initial, 'Hey, this is just strawberry, that's not too bad,' vibe going and then the second part hits you and it's not... completely awful. But it's not totally pleasant, and it throws you off, and sort of retroactively messes with your experience drinking it so that you're not very happy at what you're doing to yourself.

So, in summary, it was a bad idea to make it, a bad idea to buy it, and a bad idea to drink it, but less awful then I feared. I will not finish the bottle, as I really don't want to keep going, and my stomach is already starting to churn here.

However, from the same company that brought you that, they also have a Mars bar drink. Which is fucking awesome, just chocolate and caramel. That works! See! That's how you do it! That stuff's delicious, and is so full of sugar and fat it's like glorious diabetes in a bottle.

Which I have waiting for me for when I feel better, taking advantage of the two for two pound offer. Now please excuse me... I want to rinse my mouth out.

Errrrrrrgh. Whhhhhhhhhhy. At least I know how I'll be spending the rest of my night... puking up over my own feet as I feebly attempt to ward off the upcoming milshake by clutching my stomach and whimpering.